


Where Do You Think You're Going?

by WordsAblaze



Series: Whumpskier [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kidnapping, M/M, Oops, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rescue, Whumptober, bandits, i'm slowly realising i use the kidnapping tag far too often, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: Sometimes people forget that they really shouldn't try to claim a ransom from Geralt by hurting his bard... day five of whumptober.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Whumpskier [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949428
Comments: 10
Kudos: 396





	Where Do You Think You're Going?

**Author's Note:**

> at the risk of being cliched, here's another obligatory bandits-kidnap-jaskier fic :p  
> today's pairing: geralt/jaskier  
> prompts used: failed escape / rescue

Jaskier hates bandits. 

Especially the ones that only care about threatening him for the sake of coin.

And he’s no stranger to coming across bandits but it takes him by surprise when a group of them get the better of him about a week before he’s scheduled to meet Geralt. He wakes up tied to a tree, feeling rather bruised and generally quite annoyed.

“What now?” he finds himself asking groggily. 

“You’re awake,” the man hovering in front of him says as if having expected him to sleep forever.

Jaskier glares at him. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

He only gets a blow to the stomach for his troubles that has him gasping, doubling over ever so slightly. 

“Where’s your white wolf?” Another man asks, raising an eyebrow so smugly that Jaskier immediately wants to gouge his eyes out. 

“I very  _ obviously _ can’t answer that. If I knew where he was, you probably wouldn’t still be alive.” Jaskier isn’t even lying when he says that because he’s usually the one making sure Geralt doesn’t stab random bandits and give himself a bad reputation. 

He winces when the one with the irritating eyebrows kicks his shoulder in frustration but he’s grateful this group isn’t clichéd enough to immediately give him a black eye - those had very quickly become  _ painfully _ boring. 

None of them ask him anything more, clearly content to play the patience game with him. They set up camp close enough to gloat about eating in front of him but far away enough that Jaskier can slowly wriggle his arms and unsheathe the dagger in the hidden pocket he’d had sewn into his doublet. 

He waits until they’re all asleep - since they’re stupid enough not to keep watch -before slipping free of the ropes, grabbing his lute, and making a run for it.

It’s by no means the most elegant of running and he trips over more roots than he can count but he doesn’t stop to think about his sharply throbbing ankle or the small trail of blood dripping from his wrist that he’s unfortunately  _ failing _ to hide.

He gets about a mile away before he hears the horse chasing him.

Cursing vividly, he speeds up, hoping that he’s wrong and it’s just another traveller who happens to be going in the same direction. It’s not. Before he knows it, something crashes into him, draining the colour and life from his surroundings.

Waking up tied to a tree is even worse the second time around. 

They’ve tied the ropes tighter this time round, making breathing far harder than it needs to be, and his wrists are also tied together in front of him, rope digging into the cut he’d accidentally made when slicing his way out last time. Not to mention that he doesn't have any other daggers on his person so a second escape is officially impossible.

“Didn’t know bards were this slippery.” Irritating eyebrow man smirks down at him.

Jaskier just scoffs. “It’s an acquired talent. I wouldn’t expect the likes of you to be acquainted with such a thing.”

He’s half expecting the kick this time but it hurts just as much anyway and he can’t help groaning as his shoulder suffers for the second time. 

“You’d better hope your witcher likes you enough to come and find you,” someone new says.

Jaskier scowls at the man. He has  _ no _ doubt that his witcher does indeed like him enough but it’s a little difficult to prove that when they’re a few days too soon to cross paths. Still, he doesn’t dignify any of them with an answer.

They leave him alone for almost the whole of the next day, two of them approaching him halfway into the sun setting. One kneels beside him and places his hands on Jaskier’s knees while the other laughs at his confusion.

“Well, we can’t have you slipping away again before we get our ransom, can we?”

And with that, he lifts his foot to stomp down on Jaskier’s already injured ankle. Jaskier all but  _ screams _ , not having remotely expected it to hurt as much as it does, definitely unprepared for the man to continue applying pressure until he can no longer feel his foot.

Biting his lip to keep himself from doing anything embarrassing like sobbing, Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his hands into fists, wishing he’d just run a little faster, gotten away a little quieter, and possibly stabbed someone on his way.

But he hadn’t.

And he’s stuck tied to a tree until Geralt somehow realises where he is. 

He pulls his uninjured leg up to his chest and presses his forehead against it, ignoring the laughter of the men that seems to echo unnaturally around him even after their snores fill the air.  He doesn’t think he gets more than an hour or two of fitful sleep before the sun rises once more, his stomach now protesting loudly at the lack of food and drink and his head aching far more than it should. 

One of the men kicks him, at which he groans, almost sure the bruises on his upper arm are going to take at least a week to heal. “I was already awake, for gods’ sake,” he mutters.

Irritating eyebrow man crouches in front of him, purposely nudging his foot before harshly pinching Jaskier’s chin between his fingers. “Best keep your mouth shut unless you want to lose a hand along with that ankle.” 

It takes everything Jaskier has not to insult the man and his frankly ridiculous facial features. Instead, he settles for glaring.

“Get your hands off him.”

There are not enough words in the whole continent to describe the immense joy that floods through Jaskier’s veins as he registers who that beautiful and powerful voice belongs to. And although it’s usually not so angry and dangerous, Jaskier will count it as a blessing anyway.

“You took your time, witcher,” the man who loves kicking shoulders attempts to taunt, the strain in his voice ruining his vibe.

Geralt ignores him, his gaze washing over Jaskier and settling on his ankle before he frowns darkly. “You had no right to hurt him.”

“All we wanted was coin, it’s not our fault he tried to run and...” someone Jaskier hasn’t heard yet argues, probably only trailing off because of the way Geralt storms over. 

Jaskier isn’t entirely sure what happens next but he ends up slumped against Geralt, somewhat bonelessly melting into his warmth. “You’re early,” he whispers, smiling despite everything.

Geralt presses a soft kiss to his forehead, offering the bard a small smile as he pulls him closer, enveloping him in a love he hopes is enough to make up for days of nothing but the feel of rope. “Not early enough.” 

“Enough for me,” Jaskier replies softly, and they both know he’s referring to more than just Geralt’s timing. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay so did y'all see geralt's season two glo up ?? he'd better reunite with jaskier soon because our fave bard absolutely deserves to see geralt in batman mode-
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment


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